Tony Stark, playboy billionaire, inventor, genius, and so many other things, was definitely not a medical expert. Sitting next to the bed of an unruly spider-teen wasn't how he had planned his day as he began to wait out what mean-and-green said would be two whole weeks before Peter would be fully awake and operational again. Finding the kid's body on top of a skyscraper, so cold and still, hadn't been very good for his heart, and he supposed it wasn't very good now considering the jolts of fear it sent through his body every time Peter took longer to take a breath than normal. Stupid. Peter hadn't told him that the heater in the suit was broken, nor that he couldn't keep himself warm in the cold, nor that he could go into fucking hibernation when he got cold enough.

And Shit, the exvengers were coming back that afternoon.

Shiiiiiiiii-

Steve Rogers felt a mixture of feelings, none of them happy, as he rode the elevator to the common room. Being pardoned officially didn't mean that anyone else had forgiven him, much less Tony Stark. The guy wasn't exactly friendly when they had discussed their moving back to the tower, but they had decided it was best. They were finishing up the meeting with a glare from Stark when he got a notification from someone and his face drained of color. What in gosh's name could make him so... Worried? Steve had seen many types of scared, of fear and revulsion, and he could swear he recognized the type of fear only present on the face of a worried parent.

Tony Stark was Not a father. He was irresponsible and held no remorse for others, he was self-centered and bullheaded. Steve shook the thoughts free of his head. Bucky spared him a worried glance at the elevator dinged open, and they stepped out into a surprisingly normal looking living room. The fabric of the couches was a deep brown, and there was a hammock strung across one corner of the ceiling somehow, the shape of a book resting heavily on the bottom of the fabric. How was anybody supposed to reach that?

In the middle of one of the couches sat their gracious host, looking at each of them in turn a dangerous glint in his eyes briefly gave away how pi- angry he was at Steve when it came to his turn to be assessed.

"Ah, Capsicle, and co. Enjoy your little vacation?" The smile on his face was very realistic except for the coldness in his eyes. His legs were crossed, as well as his arms, a smile playing across his lips like he enjoyed this.

"We're glad to be back, Tony."

"That's Stark to you, Captain." The fake pleasantness dropped for a moment but he picked it back up quickly "I'm here to tell you guys the rules. You each get a floor like before, but you aren't allowed on floor 81, or on my floor, 82. My lab is also restricted. This floor is the common floor so you can all use it. Expect Thor to come by sometime, and In two days the king of Wakanda and princess Shuri are arriving so try not to fuck it up even more."

"Thanks for letting us stay, Stark, we appreciate it." Steve looked to his left foot like it was the most interesting thing in the world, which it wasn't, but it was better to look at the worn boots than to aggravate their host even more.

A voice chimed in from the ceiling, " is requesting to see you, sir."

"Thanks, Fri. Well, I have some stuff to do so get yourselves settled." Tony stood up and stalked away down a side hallway. Steve and the rest of the team walked past, and he dared to glance over, spotting Tony speaking hurriedly to Bruce. He realized he was staring when Bucky nudged him.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. I'm wondering why Bruce Banner is here," Steve said, shaking his head slightly. They each made their ways to separate floors, Bucky and Steve sharing one for obvious reasons, and they set to work unpacking.

Why was floor 81 off limits?

Bruce went over the medical charts once again for Tony. He sighed at his worried face, stating yet another time that Peter would be okay. Hibernation was temporary, and while spiders didn't go through it they went in a state very much like it when they got too cold. The boy would wake up in two weeks, they had to bring him out of hibernation slowly so his body could get used to the adjusted temperatures.

They stood over him now, a bracelet sent by Wakanda as a token of their goodwill taking his vitals was on his wrist, and he lay curled slightly on the middle of gently heated blankets and comforters while they warmed him up. It had been nearly a week since they had brought him in, and it had taken them two days to create a treatment plan for him. The first days had been slow but now his real recovery could begin. He had been so cold, and his heartbeat was so slow even now. The shallow breaths he took were far apart, but still better than when Tony had brought him in, frantic with fear.

Peter looked so peaceful despite the fact that he hadn't been awake for five days now. Tony ran a hand through his soft curls and the teen curled tighter into the blankets. Suddenly awkward, Bruce left the room, and then the floor. As soon as he reached the common room he was met with questions from the Black Widow and Hawkeye.

"Why aren't we allowed onto floor 81?"

"Why are you here?"

"Is something wrong with Stark? "

"Hold on, hold on." Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "One at a time."

"Is something wrong with Stark? Is that why you're here?" Asked Natasha, narrowing her eyes slightly at him.

"Okay, first of all, I live here, second of all, Stark is better than before since he got rid of that awful addiction, and you aren't allowed on 81 because Tony doesn't want you there."

"That's not a good answer for why we can't go there. I'm assuming FRIDAY knows?" Questioned the Black Widow, raising her eyebrows at the ceiling

"Yes," The AI chimed in. "According to boss 'don't let them onto that floor or I swear to God I'll snap their necks.' It would be unwise to do so for your personal safety. "

Clint whistled, taken aback, "Damn, I guess we shouldn't go. "

"Oh no, I know that voice. Don't do it, really Clint this isn't negotiable."

"Oh, fine." Clint rolled his eyes. "We'll find out eventually."

Bruce shook his head in exasperation, Clint and Natasha seemed keen on taking any chance possible on pissing Tony off. "It's almost lunch, we'd better head to the kitchen. Tony isn't eating with us, naturally."

"Of course he isn't. I'm assuming this also has something to do with floor 81?" Clint scoffed.

"Yes, actually. Also, consider the fact that Tony hasn't forgiven you." He retorted.

"Been picking up tips from the great Tony Snark himself I see."

"Heh. I suppose living with him does that." Bruce looked briefly at both of them. "Don't be too hard on him, he's going through a lot, he has been for a while now, but you should understand it's not him being angry as much as he is hurt."

"Ok. We'll try. When will we be allowed to see who lives on floor 81?" Natasha cocked her head a bit, arms crossed as they paced down the hallway that seemed too long now.

"Just... I don't know. Tony always takes a while to move past something. You know how he is."

"Sure. What's for lunch?" Clint picked up the conversation as they reached the kitchen.

"Macaroni," Came the reply, as the rest of the Avengers were called down to eat.

Lunch was quiet. The exvengers sat on one side, the ones that stayed on the other. Somehow they managed to be civil, even if tension was thick in the air. Clint sat there silently, eating his macaroni in whatever relative peace was at the table. He would've preferred the countertop, but he couldn't complain and besides, this wasn't home yet.

After all, Stark had just invited them back, and Stark Law said that it would be a while before he would feel comfortable enough to eat with them. For all that people said he was an arrogant playboy, Stark was slow to trust and intelligent enough to know when to. It felt strange to be a stranger in a place that just a year before would have been his home, but he supposed that was his own fault, what with the accords and fleeing in an admittedly stupid decision. He could've just signed and stayed within the law.

He certainly could've had more of this macaroni, and even if that was a stupid thing to say, regret crept up into his throat and he couldn't eat anymore. Natasha raised an eyebrow as he pushed the plate away, so he arranged his expression into something slightly more pleasant. He doubted it would fool her, but he did it anyway, and got up to scrape his leftovers into the sink.

"Hey, I'm not hungry, so I'm going to check out my room." He said with a slight smile.

"Wait, this is a team lunch you can't just-"

But Bruce shook his head at Rogers, and Clint nodded in acknowledgement. He couldn't deal with Rogers' self-inflating ego quite this early in the well, ever. Privately, in the room of his own mind, he reasoned that if he was going to his room, he might as well go in style.

It turned out that all the vents were suspiciously Clint-sized, and the one that fit in them crawled through with practiced ease. The quiet sound of cloth shifting across metal was the only noise beside his own breath, but if he stopped moving he could hear the bubbling sounds of muffled pipes and the buzz of machinery. The tower was never quiet, full of people and the things they loved. In all the time he had known about Stark Industries, he had never heard someone unhappy to be working there. If Clint recalled correctly, he was far above the employee and lab directors' dorms, which were floors below. He should be safe.

Through the vents, he had access to all floors, and by extension, the forbidden one. The sudden urge to go find out what was on that floor washed over him, much like the poison Natasha was bound to put in his food if she ever found out what he was about to do.

He did it anyway.

The vents were cold, which he was thankful for because the alternative was blistering heat, and so he made rapid progress. Twists and turns made the labyrinth tighter at some points, but Clint was surprisingly flexible ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). A strange whirring noise sounded behind him, something not quite in place, more like the cliche buzzing of a hero tied down moving slowly towards a saw.

Well, it turns out that's exactly what was, so Clint made the only rational decision and exploded out of the nearest venthole (what the fuck are these called) only to land on a soft, carpeted surface. Not that scratchy basement carpet that the dog had peed on countless times, but the type of carpet that had no end to its deepness. Seriously, where were his fingers.

Aside from the carpet and the saws now whirring behind him in the vents (what the fuck Stark?), there was a door, slightly ajar, and what appeared to be a bed could be seen through the crack. Suddenly a whirring sound was heard from behind, and Clint, making a decision he didn't regret whatsoever, launched himself out of the vent and into the room. He watched as a very sharp looking saw shot its way through the air where he'd just been.

He looked around at the room he was now in. Dark blue walls and a loft close to the ceiling, the shelves on the wall went way too high and were completely covered in stuff that Clint would never be able to understand. Piles of beanbags, bright red, were in the center of the room around a low table also covered in the stuff. He looked to the loft.

Using the curtains to make his way up there, he stooped at what he saw. A teenager, all sandy brown curls and tiny snoring, lay curled in a plethora of down comforters and blankets.

What the fuck.

He held back the urge to pet the kid's hair, so soft looking, and looked for the nearest escape route. It was rather easy, as the windows came open with the touch of a rather inconspicuously placed button, and so he went out, one foot on the windowsill, and dropped carefully down to the nearest one below.

That window was open to let the breeze in and he clambered in. Mission complete.

So that's what Tony was hiding. A hand landed on his shoulder. Speak of the devil, the man himself, and he was Pissed.

"Hi, hey, what's up, buddy? Have fun on your excursion? " The tone of voice was friendly, the million-megawatt smile for the press in place and shouting danger. Clint would've shuddered if not for the training he'd had as a spy. "Cause that might be a problem if anyone else finds out, ey, buddy old pal?"

"Don't worry about it, it was nothing." Clint wanted to sigh. He probably wouldn't get another chance to see the kid again, since Stark knew about his adventuring.

"Damn fucking right it was nothing because there's nothing that can stop me from ruining you if anyone else happens to find out, I guarantee it!" Tony removed his hand and placed it behind his back, straightening up and grinning like the world was made of coffee.

Clint nodded wordlessly and Tony disappeared behind the nearest doorway. He sighed and walked back to his floor, assuming the vents were still not safe. Tony really did make his floor perfect for him, and he assumed all of the Avengers' floors were the same.

And if Tony wanted that secret kept, then he'd rather do that than make him any angrier.